Scholar in Residence
by Pithe
Summary: "To be clear, then. You are asking me for access to the private Malfoy library, for an indeterminate length of time, for reasons undisclosed." Granger leaned forward. "Yes. And Malfoy, nobody can know that I'm here."


Draco wondered idly if ghosts could get wet. Surely a ghost would be impervious to rain. And yet here she was, dripping on his doorstep.

"Granger."

"Malfoy."

A gust of cold wind brought him back to his senses. "Please, come in." He stepped aside to let her enter the cavernous hall. He waited as she hung her rain-soaked jacket on the coat rack, feeling as though he was the one who had just come in from a storm. Then he turned mutely and led her to a parlor off the entrance hall. Out of habit, he waited for her to take a seat before sitting himself.

Draco kept his face carefully composed as he studied the woman across from him. 'Woman' was a more apt descriptor now than it had been when he last saw her. Her hair was as bushy as ever, her eyes just as bright. The years hung lightly in the set of her shoulders and the faint lines on her brow, made more noticeable by her agitation. Her muggle clothing, a green sweater and jeans, contrasted starkly with his own robes.

Draco gathered himself, settling into his customary smirk. "A patronus, Granger?" he asked mockingly. "The war is over, you know. Have you forgotten how to use an owl?"

He had not expected his jape to have any effect, but he saw Granger's grip on the chair tighten. "I trust you told no one of this visit, as I requested."

"Of course," he replied. He noted with some satisfaction that she seemed hardly more at ease than he felt. She looked at him and then away, moved her hands to her lap and then back to her sides as the silence stretched on. Finally, she seemed to reach some decision. She leaned forward, eyes intent.

"Malfoy, I need to use your library."

It was all Draco could do not to laugh. Three years. Three years without a word, and now she was here, asking to use his library. How perfectly Granger.

"I see," he said. "The Malfoy library is not generally open to the public. Is there a particular volume you require?"

Granger shook her head. "I need access to the whole collection. The information I am looking for is…not easy to find."

"And what is it that you're looking for?"

She shook her head again. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, I can't tell you. Please believe me when I say that I wouldn't be here unless I had no other choice."

Draco would be damned before he let her see how much that stung. "How long would it take you, then, to find whatever it is you're looking for?"

"I don't know. Perhaps days. Perhaps longer."

"To be clear, then. You are asking me for access to the private Malfoy library, for an indeterminate length of time, for reasons undisclosed."

"Yes. And Malfoy, nobody can know that I'm here."

Draco leaned back. There was a time, long ago, when nothing would have given him more pleasure than seeing Hermione Granger beg. Indeed, he had dreamed of it, although what he had envisioned then had been very different circumstances. And then there was a time – he could barely admit it to himself, barely think it – but there had been a time when he would have given anything just to hear her voice at all. And now…

He wanted to hate her, as he had before. He wanted to tell her to leave and never come back. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she told him why she'd done it, why she'd disappeared, where she had been for these three long years. Instead, he found himself looking into her eyes, those bright, brown, desperate eyes, and nodding.

"Very well. I have conditions. You may enter the manor only to use the library. Every other room is off limits. No books may leave this house under any circumstances; I will know if they do. Nor may you bring anyone else here, or tell anyone else of this arrangement. If I am sworn to secrecy, so are you. And you cannot start today. I have business to attend to in London. You may come back in three days and start then."

Relief flooded Granger's face. "Thank you, Malfoy. Really."

Draco stood stiffly. "If that is all." Wordlessly he saw her out, and it was not until the door clicked shut that he finally allowed the memories to wash over him.

* * *

Three days later, the knock came at nine o'clock precisely. Draco heard it from his study, as any knock was charmed to sound throughout the house, and forced himself to finish reading his page before rising. He kept his pace deliberately slow as he walked through the silent halls of Malfoy Manor, past rows of portraits which glared down at him as always. He paused for a moment to adjust his hair before opening the door.

"Granger."

"Malfoy."

Draco wondered if this would become their customary greeting. No. Surely she would not be here long enough for any custom to develop. He pushed the thought aside as he let her through the door.

"The library is this way," he announced, and set off briskly without checking to see if she followed. The library was a little more than halfway into the eastern wing, not far by the standard of the manor but a long walk relative to any normal house. It felt odd to hear Granger's footsteps behind him; Draco realized with a start just how long it had been since any other person had been in this house.

"Here were are." It truly was a magnificent sight. Hundreds of thousands of books sat on shelves reaching up four stories to a vaulted ceiling. Two spiral staircases connected three levels of balconies that stretched all across the walls. Tables and chairs dotted the floor spaced comfortably, interspersed with rare and valuable artifacts. Draco turned to see the awe that must be evident on Granger's face. Instead he saw…nothing. If anything, she looked rather bored.

"The catalog?" she asked patiently.

Draco pointed wordlessly and stalked out the library door. Distracted, he walked past the door to his study and had to double back when he realized. His study actually adjoined the library, with two doors, one leading to the library, the other to the hall. It had previously been a private reading room before he converted it. Without thinking, Draco had taken the long way around. Scowling, he cast a locking spell on the adjoining door as he flung himself into his chair and then attempted to redirect his attention back to his work.

There was a much larger study in the west wing of the house. It had been his father's. Draco supposed it still was. He did not often venture into the west wing – not at all, in fact, in the past year at least. The kitchen and the library were both clustered toward the far end of the east wing, so he had converted the reading room to a study and moved from his childhood bedroom suite to a guest suite near the kitchen. Most of his life was contained in this small corner of the manor. He did feel some sense of responsibility for the rest of it; twice a year he hired people to clean and maintain the manor. But besides for that he preferred not to dwell in or on the great expanse outside his little keep.

Draco tried to focus on the financial documents in front of him, but he could hear her now, summoning books, flipping through pages. Scowling, he cast a quick muffling charm. In the silence that followed, he went back to work, trying to force himself to concentrate through the lingering awareness that she was right there, on the other side of the wall, only one room away. It was an unproductive day, and he found himself relieved, many hours later, when he heard her footsteps in the hallway. The library, when he poked his head in moments later, was empty, all the books put away, looking as though nobody had been in there at all.

* * *

Draco needed a book, and it was a problem that this was a problem.

The last four days had passed in much the same manner as that first day. At nine o'clock exactly he let Granger in, walked her to the library, and took the long way around to his study. He cast a muffling charm and tried to focus on his work, which at the moment was a business deal he was arranging, pretending that there wasn't a person, a living breathing Granger, on the other side of the wall.

The deal he was making was with goblins, and it would be quite useful to reference the records of his family's past dealings with them. It would have been useful several hours ago, in fact. Now it was growing essential. He supposed he could wait a few more hours until Granger left…No. This was absurd. He would not avoid part of his own house, Granger be damned. Draco stood abruptly and made his way through the hall into the library.

Despite his best efforts, his eyes immediately found Granger sitting in the far right corner of the huge room, a stack of books two feet high on the table in front of her. She looked up as he entered and gave a tiny smile before returning to her reading. Draco strode quickly to the Malfoy family records and found the relevant leather-bound volume at once. Out of the corner of his eye he peered at Granger, only some thirty feet away. Which, in such a large library, was uncomfortably close to rather private information about the history of his House. Just what was she reading, anyway? He pretended to browse as he inched closer, but when he looked again the titles in her stack remained fuzzy and incomprehensible, and he could not recognize any of the books. Odd. He should be able to read the titles from this distance. Had she cast some sort of privacy charm? Was she really that paranoid?

Ah. She was looking at him now, a half-smile on her lips. So much for stealth. Draco pretended to search the shelves for a moment longer before turning to her.

"Granger."

"Malfoy."

"I trust your research is progressing smoothly?" he asked, forcing nonchalance.

Granger shrugged. "It's a start. There's obviously a great deal of material to go through," she replied, gesturing vaguely around her.

Draco noticed a notebook in front of her, the open page filled with dense, neat writing which was frustratingly illegible. He gave her a lazy smile. "I know the contents of this library quite well. If you were to tell me what you're looking for I might be able to be of some assistance."

Granger's expression clouded. "Thank you, Malfoy, but you needn't trouble yourself. I'm sure I'll manage."

Blast her secrecy. He would not let his curiosity show. "As you wish," he drawled. "If you expect your search to take much longer, I will key you into the wards so that you may let yourself in. I don't have time to collect you every morning," he finished, a bit more coldly than he had intended. Without waiting for a response he turned and stalked back to his study.

Through the adjoining door. Damn. For some reason, he realized, he had not wanted Granger to know that he was working quite so nearby. Perhaps she hadn't noticed. This was Granger, though, he thought. She noticed everything.

His mood now thoroughly sour, he sat back at his desk and starting flipping through the family record with rather more force than was necessary. What could she be researching that required such secrecy? And what connection did it have to her long absence? He was not the only one who had wondered where she had been these past few years; the disappearance of one of the heroes of the Second Wizarding War had been well-reported. Those close to her denied any knowledge of her whereabouts, stating only that they did not believe she was in any danger. The _Daily Prophet_ still occasionally printed rumors of Granger-sightings, in far off countries or on the Muggle tube in London. Draco considered idly that the paper would probably pay a great deal of money in exchange for the information that Granger was currently ensconced in Malfoy Manor. He had seen nothing in the past few days to indicate that her reappearance was public knowledge. He put the thought aside. Even if he had not sworn himself to secrecy he would not give the _Prophet_ the satisfaction.

He was sure that whatever she was researching was somehow connected to her disappearance. And so, hours later, he found himself again entering the library after she had departed. Again, all the books she had been reading had been replaced on the shelves. Hoping he was right, Draco summoned the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Seven_. Where was it, where was it…there. A spell to show all objects used in the past twenty-four hours. He recited the incantation with a wave of his wand, and immediately a half dozen books glowed a pale blue. With another wave of his wand they flew into a neat pile on the table before him. His eyes widened as he took in the volumes. _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ , _On the Infliction of Pain_ , _A Compendium of Curses_ …Each and every book was on the subject of the Dark Arts.

Draco stood, blinking, trying to absorb this information. Then he grabbed the volume on top of the pile, settled into a chair, and began to read.


End file.
